Page 113 of Serenity Falls

‘That’s certainly true.’

‘And we often forget our parents had a life before us.’

I suddenly remember the weird card in Mum’s box of stuff. The one from the club. Closing Time. And then I think about how Mum acquired the house here around the same time I was born.

I shake my head. ‘I think that’s the hardest thing about losing someone. Suddenly, you realize there was all this stuff you didn’t know. All these questions you didn’t ask – and now you’ll never get the chance.’

She smiles sympathetically. ‘We enter and leave this world an enigma.’

‘Profound.’

She raises her glass. ‘Three glasses in, I’m profound. Six, and I’m profane.’

I burst out laughing. ‘I need to remember that one.’

‘You know, I’m sure your mother had a good reason for not telling you about this house. We think we need to know everything about the people we love. But we can’t. Nor should we.’

I sip my wine and let her words settle. Maybe she’s right. I never really knew Nat. I thought I did, I thought we shared everything, but, ultimately, she kept a whole world from me.

I sigh. ‘How do we ever maintain relationships if we don’t really know each other?’

‘Well, that is the wonder. Perhaps we should nurture them more. Treat them like the precious things they are.’ As she speaks, she leans forward over the table. ‘And of course’ – she smiles – ‘keep secrets.’

I smile back. A waft of her scent drifts up my nostrils. Subtle and citrussy. Just like Nat’s scent. Memory rushes at me like a missile. My head throbs. My stomach turns over. I suddenly feel dizzy and sick.

‘Hey. Are you okay?’

I can’t speak. The pain in my head is back, and even more intense. I can feel fluid dripping from my nose, see bright red splotches on the floor. I stand abruptly, chair squealing across the floor.

‘Sorry. I just … I just need to use the bathroom.’

I hurry across the café, aware that people are staring. The room is swimming, and it’s not just the wine. I can feel sharp pains in my head like someone is stabbing it with an internal pitchfork.

I shove open the doors to the toilets. They’re empty, fortunately. I head to the sink. Blood is pouring from my nose. I splash my face with water and reach for a paper towel. What the hell was that? I dab at my face and look in the mirror.

My heart jack-knifes. ‘Fuck!’

Nat stands behind me. But not the Nat enshrined in photographs. This Nat is pale, lips blue. Her eyes are sunken, and her hair is heavy and wet on her shoulders, slimy with river weed. Her T-shirt and jeans are sodden, clinging to her slight figure.

I turn. She doesn’t disappear like all good mirror ghosts should. Instead, she moves closer, and I can smell her now. The fetid stench of dank water and things that swim and slither along the riverbed.

‘No,’ I mutter as pain grips my head in a vice. ‘No.’

Her wet trainers squelch on the floor.

‘Remember, Dan. Remember me.’

I press myself back up against the sink. I can feel the taps digging into my butt, but I can’t get any further away. I scrunch my eyes closed, and then I hear a voice say: ‘Are you all right, son?’

I open my eyes. An older man with thinning hair and glasses is staring at me with a mix of concern and wariness.

‘Oh. Yes,’ I stutter. ‘Just a nosebleed.’

He nods sympathetically, but his eyes haven’t lost their cloud of suspicion. ‘My wife gets those. You tried acupuncture? She swears by it.’

‘No, no, I haven’t. But I’ll bear that in mind.’ I smile and turn back to the sink, where I make a show of washing my hands. He gets the hint and disappears into a cubicle. I dry my hands and walk out of the toilets. I realize that my cream shirt has red splotches all down the front. Another one for the bin.

Lori looks up from the table. ‘What happened to you?’